Distractions for a Brilliant Mind
by Irish819
Summary: Pre-Reichenbach. Mycroft Holmes told Moriarty a great deal of things during the criminal's incarceration. How unaware he was of how James Moriarty was planning, even then, how he could best use this information against his greatest opponent.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**:Distractions for a Brilliant Mind

**Author**: ImmortalFish

**Rating:** NC-17 in Future Chapters.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Sherlock/Moriarty (BBC Verse)  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> None of the characters are mine!  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Pre-Reichenbach. Mycroft Holmes told Moriarty a great deal of things during the criminal's incarceration. How unaware he was of how James Moriarty was planning, even then, how he could best use this information against his greatest opponent.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> In later chapters Porn, Kink, Angst, Violence, Drug Abuse.

This is my first time writing for this Fandom, so I'm still getting to grips with writing as the characters. I'm hoping that it's not as bad as I think it is and I'm also hoping to improve dramatically with practice.  
>Introduction chapter isn't as long as the following chapters are going to be.<br>Any criticism is welcome and greatly appreciated.

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><p>James Moriarty was grinning to himself as he sat in the back of his chauffeur driven Mercedes. The black S-Class silently made it's way through the streets of London whilst it's passenger played with a bottle of a white powderd substance, turning the bottle over in his hands gleefully, as a child would a new toy. Next to him on the seat there lay a leather case, only small, but all in all crucial to the mans newest plan.<p>

Oh, Moriarty was pleased. Ever so pleased... His time in jail had been more useful then he'd even dreamt it would be. Mycroft Holmes had wanted information from Jim and when the consulting criminal had refused to talk...well...The less important Holmes had been more then happy to fill in the silence. Telling Jim most interesting stories and accounts from his brothers childhood and life growing up. In exchange for these little tidbits, Moriarty had given few details. Enough to keep his plans secret, but enough to keep Mycroft returning with his stories.

And what stories they'd been... What _insight_ into the Detective's life... Into his very being... Oh how Jim couldn't wait to use his knowlage to it's full advantage. Lifting the bottle up to his eye level, his grin warped into something all together cruel... With this... He wouldn't have to wait very long... He had spent far to long piecing his plan together already.

Placing the bottle on the seat next to the leather case, Moriarty busied himself in removing his phone from his inside jacket pocket, unlocking the keys to compose a text message to his most interesting of toys.

'_Tick, Tock, darling. The clock is ticking downand you are still no closer to finding me._

_I'm still waiting for you._

_JM.'_

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he turned to stare out the window, watching the 'normal people' going past with their ordinary lives. Unaware of the beauty of his upcoming plan...

How tediously boring it must be to not have such glorious distractions as he does.


	2. Chapter 2

It was this dry spell between cases that Sherlock Holmes detested so much. The lack of activity, the loss of something to occupy his mind… He couldn't stand it. Long, thin fingers drummed on the arm of his chair, his other arm leaning on the opposite side with his chin resting against his clenched hand.

Restless, restless, restless.

How could normal people stand these quiet moments? In fact, how could many of them even go so far as to _crave _them? As far as Sherlock was concerned it was almost enough to drive him insane. Almost.

In a jolt of decision, the Detective stood, striding over towards the music stand in the corner of the room. Slender fingers grasped the violin case propped up against the wall next to it and flicked the clasps open. Inside sat his Stradivarius, his most prized possession, along with one of his biggest distractions. Removing it from the case, he lifted it up and rested the end of it on his shoulder, bringing his chin down to rest on it. His other hand brought out the bow from inside the casing, laying the hair against the strings.

Blue eyes closed themselves automatically as he took the stance he knew all too well and the bow started to move whilst his fingers danced across the neck of the Violin, pressing down on the strings to create a small musical world of his own to hide away in. A world all of his own. The music lilted into a soft tune as he imagined it, creating lives and cases to keep his mind occupied… As his thoughts drifted, the music became faster, needier… He needed a cigarette…He needed _something_ to clear his mind of this constant _itch_ he had gained since John and Mycroft had joined forces in removing all addictions from Sherlock's life. It turned again… This time an urgent, quiet theme. Moriarty. What was the criminal up to now? What was he planning? He had been quiet for far too long now. Far too long… He had to be up to something, he had to be planning someway of breaking this ordinary world that the two inhabited.

"_Aaahh…" _The music stopped abruptly as Sherlock's eyes snapped open, the illusion shattered as he stared over towards the table where his mobile was sat. Holding on to the neck of the Stradivarius, he crossed over to the table and picked the Blackberry up from its surface, opening the text message.

'_Tick, Tock, darling. The clock is ticking down and you are still no closer to finding me._

_I'm still waiting for you._

_JM.'_

Well then… Sherlock's thin lips twitched into a miniscule smirk.  
>"Think of the devil and he shall appear…" He muttered to himself. Striding more purposefully back to the Music stand, he replaced the Violin and bow in it's before leaning it back against the wall in its usual place.<p>

'_I'm not as many steps behind you as you seem to believe… Still, I shall be even closer once you make your next move. _

_SH.'_

This is all it was for the pair, as far as either of them was concerned, this was all a grand game.

And oh what a marvelous game it was shaping up to be…

"_Aaahh…"  
><em>Glancing down at his phone, caused the thin smirk to widen slightly as Sherlock pocketed his phone, grabbing his coat which was hanging over the back of John's chair and throwing it over his shoulders as he left the flat he shared with his friend.

'_I've already made my move. Angel Station._

_Checkmate._

_JM.'_


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter was ridiculous to write. I'm not as happy with it as I'd hoped since I got a writers block trying to start the chapter. And Sherlock is a much more difficult character to work with then Moriarty is..._  
><em>Still, enjoy. <em>  
><em>Criticism is greatly appreciated. <em>

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><p><strong>PART 3<strong>

The area around Angel Station was bustling with people going about their lives, on their way to lunch from work or off to meet friends. Normal people, living their normal, boring lives. Pulling his coat closer to him to guard himself from the bitter wind that was whipping around the area, Sherlock made his way through the crowds, eyes darting around for anything that seemed out of place. Anything that Moriarty could have set up at the tube station…

There was a couple nearby snuggled together from the wind, clearly a married man and his mistress from what Sherlock could tell…He had the haggard look of one in a particularly long and tedious marriage and the way he was clutching the much younger woman…Well, it wasn't how one would cling to a daughter or his current wife…

A group of teens emerged from the entrance to the underground; knocking into the couple slightly as they passed…the Detective was certain the gent would discover his wallet missing shortly…Pocketed by the teen with the blue cap…

All this going on and still Sherlock couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. Just average people and average lives.

Until he spotted the suit. The all too familiar £600 Westwood suited figure cutting its way through the crowd towards him. James Moriarty.

Sherlock watched him, tight lipped, as the criminal made his way through to him with a grin on his face.

"You came!" He said, beaming at the detective. "Not that I had any doubt you would of course… I do know you quit well, if I do say so myself!" Jim was level with Sherlock now, not stopping in his walk as he placed his hand in the small of Sherlock's back to guide him back towards the direction he came from. "Let's go for a little walk, shall we?"

Without a word, Sherlock followed Moriarty's lead. Walking in step next to the criminal as they slowly emerged from the hectic crowd into the far calmer shoppers further down the street. It was still busy though, still too busy for Moriarty to attempt any sort of open battle of sorts with Sherlock. So perhaps this was more of a test of wits then a scheme in this grand plan of his…

"I figured this would be a fitting place for us meet again…" Moriarty continued. "Angel Station… You always do seem to be on the side of the angels, very unlike myself in that regard…" He pulled a slight face at the idea of this. "Very boring on that side, I imagine… No spontaneity, no recklessness… No, little pleasures." His eyes flicked up to Sherlock's face as he spoke, still steering him through the people.

Sherlock's brow knotted into a very slight frown as the pair walked, where was Jim going with this…? "So you brought me out to this place merely to make small talk about the differences in our life choices?" He chided, keeping his voice in the same single tone he always managed to speak in. "Or is there another reason you wish to waste my time?"

A laugh. "My, my…You really aren't one for pillow talk now, are you, my dear Sherlock?" Moriarty's eye's sparkled with glee as he eyed Sherlock's face. "You say that I'm wasting your time here and yet here you are…still walking along side me and listening to me talk. I daresay that if you had already lost interest in this situation, you would already be long gone."

The detective didn't say anything in response, he was correct of course. If Sherlock didn't want to be there any more, he wouldn't be. But as usual, there was just…something about Moriarty that kept Sherlock intrigued. Something that neither man could really name, this strange almost morbid fascination the pair had with each other.

"Dull isn't it?" Using his free hand to gesture at the nearby market venders and patrons, Jim pulled a face of contempt at them before his smile returned once more. "Still, at least we have each other, you and I, to wile the days away…" He slipped a hand into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes and flipping the pack open with his thumb and pulling one out using his lips. "You don't mind of course?"

Sherlock swallowed, ever so slightly at the sight of the cigarettes. How long had it been since he'd last had a cigarette…A proper burst of nicotine rather than just the small, pathetic hits the patches plastered to his arms gave him. A quick shake of the head indicated for Moriarty to go ahead and pull out the lighter, sparking the flame into life as he used his other hand to shield it from the wind. Thin blue eyes stayed glued to the end of the cigarette, watching the Tabaco and paper catching alight. Jim took a long drag on it, savoring the flavour before breathing the smoke out into the air.

The detective breathed in, heavier than he had previously; catching the hint of flavour he had so missed these past few years. The corners of Moriarty's eyes crinkled ever so slightly. Thus began the real game.

"I am sorry!" He exclaimed, pulling the packet back out from his pocket. "I'm being rude aren't I?" The packet lid opened as he extended it towards Sherlock. The taller man hesitated, and then plucked one of the cigarettes from the packet, swiftly examining it. This was all too…normal… It was beginning to unnerve him. Why was everything about this meeting normal? He couldn't pick up on any trace of poison or tampering on the cigarette, it was just….normal.

He slipped the butt of the cigarette in between his lips as Moriarty lifted the lighter up to the tip of it, his eyes glued to Sherlock's as he the flame sparked back up between the pair of them burning and igniting the Tabaco.

Breathing in the smoke heavily, Sherlock's eyes widened, staring directly at Jim as he opened his mouth the cigarette falling unceremoniously to the floor as he coughed up the smoke currently seeping into his lungs.

"What have you done?" He bit out quietly, covering his mouth as he choked. The flavour was wrong. All wrong. There was something else mixed in…Something that was at this moment attacking his immune system. He could feel it working its way through him as his head began to swim.

An arm encircled his waist, pulling Sherlock's own over a shoulder as Moriarty dialed a number into his phone. "Oh nothing much…Just a potent sedative… I had that packet made especially for you...Sleep well darling."

As darkness fell for Sherlock Holmes, he saw a black car coming along the road towards them and pulling up nearby. Struggling against Moriarty's steps, he felt himself sag against the criminal. A dead weight, unconscious to the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**PART 4**

"Sherlock?" John Watson pushed the door of 221b Baker street open, calling his flatmates name up the stairs as he entered. "Hey, Sherlock? I've got a case I think you might be interested in here!" He unfolded the newspaper that he had tucked under his arm, flipping through the pages as he progressed up the stairs towards the flat. "Apparently, a few nights before her wedding day, one 'Julia Stoner' promptly died whilst shouting about a 'Speckled Band' of some sorts. Police have no leads but are investigating, though it'd be right up your str-" John had reached the top of the stairs now and was staring into the empty living room of the shared flat.

"Oh…" Sighing, he continued on towards Sherlock's bedroom, it'd be unusual for the detective to be in there at this time but no more so than him leaving without a word. His knuckles rapped against the door softly as he awaited a response. "Sherlock…? Are you in there?" Pushing the door gently open, he peered into the darkened room. The curtains were drawn as usual, but the bed was still made up as it was 3 nights prior. It was verging on unhealthy how poorly the detective looked after himself.

"Well…Great." Pursing his lips in thought, the Doctor made his way back into the living room, slouching down into his chair and throwing the newspaper over onto Sherlocks. He pulled his Nokia out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open and composing a message to his friend.

"_At the flat, found a case you'd like. Where are you? _

JW."

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><p>It felt as though someone had taken a particularly heavy sledgehammer to Sherlock Holmes' head as he blearily came to his senses. Murmuring incoherently, the detective attempted to move from his currently uncomfortable position. A jolt of pain went through his shoulders, however, as he moved. A solid clunk of metal above him, alerting him to where the source of his pain was coming from. Slowly, he managed to raise his head enough to see a faint silver glint in the dull lighting of the room. Handcuffed to the wall like a common prisoner. "Tch…" He was disappointed in this development, how boringly predictable.<p>

Finally, he cast his eyes around the rest of the room. It was a decent size, would easily fit a double bed inside it. On the far wall there was a large sheet of metal covering the window, the only light in the room coming in from very slight cracks around the edge of the metal. And…That was it, there was a door to his left and that was it.  
>There was a quiet music coming from behind the door, Etude 12 in C Minor by Chopin if he was correct… And he usually was.<p>

Where on Earth was he…With such limited surroundings and the music cutting off any external noise…There was no way for him to figure out where he was. Of course…this must have all been planned out from the start. How could he of been so blind?

Shakily, he started to try and stand up properly, rather than hang from his wrists. This wasn't the wisest of moves on his part, his feet couldn't seem to get a grip on the floor causing him to slip and fall, jerking his arms by his wrists and making him cry out a little in pain.

The music stopped.

Sherlock held his breath as his eyes quickly flicked towards the door. There was movement beyond the wood then the sound of a key slipping into the lock and the click of it opening, the door swinging inwards.

"Ah, Sherlock! Nice of you to join us again!" James Moriarty swanned into the room, hands clasped together in glee as he eyed his rival. "You've been out for quite some time! It seems the sedative from 's supplies is much more potent then I'd expected! I was beginning to wonder if I'd perhaps given you a little too much!"

As he spoke, the criminal had closed the door behind him and made his way across the room to stand face to face with his rival. "Moriarty…" Sherlock hissed quietly, attempting to stand again to relieve the pressure from his wrists and shoulders. Jim was tutting at him, bringing up a hand and placing it on Sherlock's sore shoulder, pressing down on the area to prevent the other man from standing and eliciting a cry of pain as he squeezed the shoulder in his grip. "Now, now…I thought we were passed all this 'Moriarty' business. You _will_ call me Jim."

The pressure on Sherlock's shoulder ceased as Jim pulled his hand away suddenly, dark eyes watching his face closely. "…Jim." Sherlock finally stated quietly. Thin lips spread themselves into a large grin as Jim clapped his hands together once in delight.

"There we are! You're learning, Sherlock!" His voice was dancing in that sing song way of talking he so enjoyed, as he stepped back away from the wall, throwing his arms wide in gesture. "What do you think then, hrm? I had this all set up for you! I've been planning this for absolute _months…_"

For months? Why on Earth would Moriarty be planning to kidnap Sherlock for so _long_? And what would he hope to gain from doing so? Questions were bombarding the detective as he watching the criminal infront of him carefully, almost daring him to slip up. "So then…What are you going to do?" He questioned in an even tone, unwilling to give too much away. "Kill me?" No. He knew the answer to that already…But perhaps he could get something out of him like this…

Moriarty's face fell from its gleeful expression into something completely frustrated. "_KILL YOU?" _He almost bellowed, his composure slipping momentarily. "Why would I kill you _now?_" A few broad steps and Jim was inches from Sherlock again, eyes only for each other. "No, no, my dear… Daddy has a much more interesting plan in store for you…"  
>Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he produced a small leather casing, waving it infront of Sherlock's face in a mocking manor. "Now…What do you think this is…?"<p>

Sherlock's brows had knitted themselves together as his gaze fell on the case. It looked like something used in the medicine… Blue eyes widened slightly as realization and shock fell upon him.

"A syringe case?" He stated in a matter of fact tone, though his eyes shone with absolute confusion.  
>His deduction was met with a pleased laugh as Moriarty pulled a little vial out of his pocket as well, clearly impressed with Sherlock once more.<p>

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" He chided, snapping the case open and pulling the syringe out of it before throwing the casing to one side. "Now then…Can you _deduce for me_…What my plans are for you…?" As he spoke, he had inserted the needle of the syringe into the vial, withdrawing the contents into the syringe.  
>Sherlock had recognized the contents of the vial instantly, causing him to squirm against his chains once more as he attempted to escape. No, no, no, no… This couldn't be… How…<br>"That brother of yours…" Moriarty held the syringe up to eye level, tapping the glass section as he did so before continuing. "He does like to chat on doesn't he?" He was smirking now as he brought the tip of the needle towards Sherlock's neck, dragging the sharp object across the exposed skin there and splitting it very finely. "He told me a good few things about you, Sherlock dear… I know _all_ about your previous exploits…" Tutting again, he brought the needle to Sherlock's cheek again using the thin end of it to leave a cut on the skin. Eyes dancing on the wound he had left, he finally raised his hands up towards Sherlock's sleeves, reaching up to roll them down towards his captive's elbows.  
>Sherlock started to struggle again, pulling away from Moriarty's touch as a very mild panic started to bubble up inside him.<br>His brother had told this man about him? Why would he do that? Why would he tell him about his past addictions?  
>"Come now, Sherlock…this will just take a moment…It'll be worse for you if you struggle, the needle may <em>break<em> in your arm…I for one would be happy enough to leave it in there too, just to teach you…"  
>Sherlock stilled his actions, breathing heavily as he caught eyes with Moriarty.<br>"Oh I do enjoy seeing you like this…" Moriarty cooed, a smile still evident on his lips as he finally pierced Sherlock's skin with the needle. He watched as Sherlock's eyes closed and his smile split into a grin as he saw Sherlock biting his lip.  
>"No need to be so melodramatic, dear… After all, you should be used to this sensation from what I've heard…It's Benzoylmethylecgonine or more commonly known as cocaine…But you already knew that anyway didn't you?"<br>Pressing down on the end of the needle, he administered the contents into Sherlock's system. As he removed the syringe from Sherlock's arm, Moriarty took precautions to leave another thin slice along the tied up man's under arm, watching in fascination as he saw blood appear.  
>"Why…!" Sherlock was hanging his head, eyes still closed as his breathing became more ragged due to the stress he was currently under.<br>"Why?" Moriarty repeated, frowning as he grabbed Sherlock's face and forced it up to look at him again. "Because…Sherlock Holmes…I'm delighted to finally have such leverage to use against you…Who would of suspected that the great, noble Sherlock Holmes used to have _such_ an addiction, hrm…? By the time daddy is done with you, darling, you will be _crying_ for more…_begging _me to help with the itch… You'll be completely and utterly…._Mine._"


End file.
